Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be as heroically generous as my mom.
I've been sick this week and she' taken care of the kids single-handedly, straightened up the house, cleaned up the physical evidence of my sickness (tmi?) and brought me water, fruit pops and toast.
The woman doesn't complain. She doesn't accept apologies for the messiness of my life that she's cleaning up. She never seems to run out of patience or compassion.
She just gives and gives, joyfully and wholeheartedly.
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Last week I was driving, thinking about all the books I'd like to read. I was fantasizing about having the time to sit on my sofa in the middle of the afternoon and pick up a book. I was daydreaming about uninterrupted reading - how glorious! Once again I could get through a book in a week - or less! I could devour one after another, a memoir, a novel, a collection of essays, American lit, poetry, theology...
You see, I don't have much time to read, especially anything too deep. There isn't the time or energy budgeted in my days for such things as novels.
And then I had this very comforting thought: right now I do not have time for such things, and that is okay. In another season of my life, when my kids are older and I have some grey hair, then I will be able to read again. This thought was much more like a promise from God, an acknowledgement of my longing with a glimpse of what is waiting ahead. Knowing this makes it much easier to not read now, as I focus on my kids, husband, home, and friends.
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A woman I barely know offered to help me clean my home for L's birthday party. She is from Northern Ireland and is living in the US until her visa expires in July. She has been able to travel much of Europe and America in her 26 years. While I listened to her talk I felt the pang of remorse that I never studied abroad while in college. I also felt the itch to travel.
It seems that when you marry a teacher and live off his income you don't have the money to travel, especially once kids start coming. But of course my
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